


The Face of The Doctor

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 22:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19473238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: One of the first things a Time Lord does after regeneration, is look themselves in the mirror. The Last Of The Time Lords didn't. He couldn't. He could never look at the man he's become.





	The Face of The Doctor

The Doctor ran through the sinking Titanic with his eyes closed. Unfortunately, he forgot to open them again on the other side of the ship, and thus accidentally jumped overboard, landing on a freezing cold ice flake. But it was worth it. 

He woke abruptly as several small bags of tea, were being smacked on his face. In his attempt at throwing the tea, he’d hit a mirror, due to keeping his eyes tightly shut. Then, the tea landed on his head, knocking him out. 

It wasn’t a convenient habit, but it  _ was _ a necessary one. He had barely slept in the first 5 years of this new body. Every night was plagued by nightmares. Only, could they really be called nightmares? The memories of what happened before his regeneration were vague, but the same as the images that tormented him at night. He was 90% certain that his dreams weren’t just dreams. All the fire, and suffering screams were ones he heard, only for a second, before his war-weary body gave up, turning slim, and less hairy at the top of his head. That was all he was brave enough to feel. His face especially, was one he refused to ever observe. Even if it was a different one than the one he had when he did  _ it _ , when he killed them all.. He still didn’t trust himself. He kept travelling for the sole purpose of righting his wrong. However long it would take. 

He wasn’t running from Gallifrey anymore, as there wasn’t a Gallifrey to be scared of. He really missed it. The painful nostalgia. All the arrests his own people put him through, the childhood bullying, crying in the barn at night. The trial in temporal hell, aka the Matrix, courtesy of the Valeyard. The thin hair was a blessing. It meant he wasn’t the Valeyard. Yet. the Doctor had never been more convinced that the Valeyard was telling the truth when he claimed to be a distant future incarnation of him. 

With an ice pack placed wonkily on his head, the Doctor set the coordinates to 26th of August, 1883, the day before the eruption of Krakatoa. If seeing an explosion just as loud as the one he created, didn’t soothe him, nothing would. His headache did begin to go away. So that was good. ‘ _ Better than good,’  _ he thought to himself, attempting a half-serious smile of optimism. 

_ It’s Fantastic! _


End file.
